


Turn And Face The Strange

by pilcrowtudinous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilcrowtudinous/pseuds/pilcrowtudinous
Summary: The direction to turn isn't always clear, whether you find yourself aligned to the dark or the light. Rey stands opposite Kylo as she processes their moment in time.





	Turn And Face The Strange

**Author's Note:**

> I always knew the day would come that I would succumb to writing fic, not just reading it from time to time. And apparently, TLJ is the springboard... 
> 
> Short and sharp establishing scene... to see where things go next.

“You have no place in this story.”

 

She stares at him. 

 

“You come from nothing. You’re nothing.”

 

After everything. After she travelled across the stars to find him. To remind him of who he was, underneath the mask, the facade, the heavy cloak of expectation laid onto him by his master. She had never been one to shy away from candidness, but this... 

 

Rey has nothing to say. 

 

“But not to me.”

 

She cannot speak. But their thread pulls between them even when they are systems apart. And in front of one another, the dark and the light, they could be carved from the same eternal stone. Moments ago, she barely knew where she ended, where her saber began – and just as much, which sweeping limbs were hers and which ones his.

 

_ Why? _

 

His eyes close, for a moment. 

 

_ Because I feel your strength. Your power, fitting into my own. Light and dark. You find my weaknesses, my... feelings. And I find the cracks in your light, bright veneer. I see your hunger.  _

 

_ But I come from nothing.  _ Her face is impassive, even as her pulse thrums against her skin across every inch of her.

 

_ Weren’t you paying attention before?  _ She can hear the faint hum of what sounds like the lightsaber she holds, but it isn’t ignited.  _ The past is nothing. It has no meaning. The future is what matters, and it could be ours. _

 

He looks steadily into her eyes. “Join me. Please.”

 

It’s the  _ please _ that does it. His moment of vulnerability – a throat briefly bared to the elements and all manner of predation. 

 

But she can’t. She  _ can’t _ . These past weeks, months – this growing sense of her self and of the world around her – this goes against all that she has had instilled in her. In front of her, reaching out for her, crossing that connection is a man who killed his father. Who learned from Snoke. Who has done gods knows what else, depending on whose tale she’s listening to. He is  _ Kylo Ren _ . And that name can mean nothing but darkness.

 

And yet in front of her, damp with sweat, bloodied, breathing heavily, dark eyes both hopeful and accusatory... he and she are the same. Equals in the shadow of the Force. Neither fully in the dark, despite his actions, nor fully in the light, despite her seemingly pure heart.

 

He’s not just Kylo. He’s Ben – and he’s right. 

 

She does hunger to prove her strength. She comes from nothing. But she could be anything. She could be everything.

 

This could be the way that she does it.

 

As she stares at him, she notices again the hum. It isn’t the saber; it is in her, around her, around him. Her ears and mind are heavy with the energy connecting them.

 

_ Can I do this? _ she thinks, forgetting that he’s there, in that corner of her mind.

 

_ I really think you should. _

 

An immense cracking sounds from beyond the chamber. Rey is shaken from her reverie, from his gaze, from their hum, for a moment. Something animal in her leaps out, defensive, and she reaches out for the saber – Luke’s saber, Vader’s saber… her saber. 

 

And he does too. And in that moment, they hang again in perfect balance – now in conflict, real or imagined. 

 

She cannot let go now. The hilt hangs in the air between them.

 

What would happen if she let go? To her, to him, to the balance?

 

She keeps her hold true. Every cell of her body wants her to let go. She is already so battered and bruised and so very close to broken. 

 

_ Please. _

 

She feels her grip change. Not loosen, but shift. The hilt feels different, slowly shifting and responding to their opposing grasps.

 

He recognises what is happening a split second before she does, and she sees it in his eyes. Fear. 

 

_ Please. _

 

And then there is nothing.


End file.
